The Perfect Mistake
by pavarotti
Summary: AU: There's something about knowing when you're going to die that makes life a little easier. But planning your death has it's consequences, especially if fate isn't quite ready for you to disappear. Nick Duval is about to find out how true this is.
1. Part One

******Author's Note: ******Happy Birthday, Doug! It's not exactly what you wanted but all that I could manage was this odd Nick-centric-four-parter-oneshot-thingy. I still hope your birthday is killer and this is for you. Plus, I have all the time in the world to get it right. Where there's one thing written for you there's plenty more to come. I love you and your amazing ways!

With that said, prepare yourself (_yourself_ being whoever is reading this) for angsty teenage heartbreak, an odd side-kick, a mysterious ex-boyfriend who you want to root for—or might not, a questionable crush and a taste of what it's like to give up on life. All in all, this is one of those stories that will either make you really happy or really pissed off. I'm the latter...and I wrote it.

******Pairings: ******Nick/Blaine, Nick/Sebastian, Nick/Jeff

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><p><strong><strong>The Perfect Mistake<strong>**

-:-

****Part One****

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><p><em><strong><strong>The Middle of My Life; Where I'm At<strong>**_

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><p><em>Entry #1 – Monday the 23rd, August<em>

Sometimes I have these moments when my body is calm, the air is warm and the house is quiet. In those moments, I take a deep breath and I close my eyes, letting repressed thoughts come to the surface of my entire being. These thoughts bring feelings—which isn't entirely bad, but as a boy who comforts himself in no feelings at all it can become overwhelming. They're foreign to my body, but all too familiar; pain and heartache, bliss and love, hatred and rage. They make the thoughts louder, clearer, sending me in spiral of emotion that leaves me petrified in my bed where I am safe under the covers, like a little kid who's scared of imagined bogeymen. I take another deep breath and will everything away. The numb would find me eventually. Cleanse me of the poison. My eyelids grow heavy and I won't even hesitate to try to keep them open, they close and darkness finds me, allowing my thoughts to slip away and to land on a different plane of being. I fall into a dreamless state that cancels out the rest of the world. Sleep is the only real place that I'm safe.

I wish I could sleep forever.

* * *

><p>I sat my pen down on the notebook and stared at my words, re-reading them as if I were the teacher. I tried to see the pictures I attempted to paint from a professional perspective, but all I can see is the complaining mentality of an almost seventeen year old. I wish there was more to see, more to read, but that's all there is. They're simple—normal, even. I'm no different than any other person who is a little more than sad. I brought my thumb up to my lips and grabbed hold of my flesh with my teeth. <em>Maybe I should be more dramatic,<em> I think. _Maybe I should make it seem like I'm more desperate for help._ I attempted to pick up my pen but instead I continued to chew on the thick flesh surrounding my chipped fingernail. I noticed a presence beside me.

"Nick, have you finished?" my teacher, Mrs. Sampson, asked.

"I'm not sure," I responded. I looked up at her then. "Are we being graded?"

She frowned at me. "Like I told everyone at the beginning of the assignment: this is a yearly project—a journal entry for each day you're in class. Express what you're feeling. Write about the things you see and the life you live. Don't hold back on anything."

I frowned back at her. "But are we being graded? Are you going to read them?"

She sighed and reached for my notebook. In my head I saw myself screaming and lunging for her, knocking her over as I clutched the thing to my chest, growling like a beast at her. Instead I held my breath as she picked it up. It's then that I realized I didn't want anyone to know. I'm not ready to face anything. Thankfully, she didn't open it.

"No, I will not being reading your journals," she announced loudly to the class. "But I will be grading on participation. Turn in your journals by the end of the day and you will get credit."

She walked away with my notebook and I glanced around me, watching everyone scribble down their thoughts. Some were staring off into space, probably stuck on what to write about. Others seemed to be writing an essay's worth of words. It seemed pointless to do this, but I wasn't one to question a teacher. I bent over and pulled out a book from my bag. We still had twenty minutes until the bell rang, time that was meant to be spent on our journals. I could still be writing, but Mrs. Sampson had made up my mind for me. Which was good; I didn't need to ponder too long on how I was feeling, especially on my first day of school.

I was a junior now, which was strange. I wasn't a freshman, someone who was new to the ways of high school. And I wasn't a sophomore, someone who was familiar yet not quite on the high grade status to be something majorly important to the school. Juniors were much like seniors, except for the fact that they didn't have the whole "last year of high school" thing. I wished that I was senior, if only to be able to have that privilege to say I was nearly done with this wretched place.

The bell rang and everyone rushed to get out of the classroom. I shoved my belongings back into my bag and hauled it over my shoulder. But instead of forcing my way out of the classroom, I paused at the teacher's desk, waiting for her to look up from her planner. When she did so, she raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yes?"

"The journals...I just...I want to be able to trust you," I said then, not quite sure where I was going with all this.

She nodded. "Well, Nick, I promise you that I will not read your journal. I understand if you want to be able to express yourself in a secure environment, and I'm glad that you're willing to do so for this year long assignment," she explained, standing up from her desk and walking to the shelves next to the door where everyone dropped off their assignments, or in this case, journals. I watched as she picked up the notebooks/journals and carried them to her desk. She looked up at me and smiled softly.

"You should probably get to class, but I promise that you're journal will only be opened by you."

"Thank you," I replied and rushed off to my next period.

I had Math next. I took a nap. I mean, it was hard to stay awake during the first few hours of school. I had woken up at six after going to bed at two in the morning, and the first day of school is always slow-paced, even though the classes are simple. English had been all about the teacher explaining what we'd be learning and doing throughout the school year, and it was the same for nearly every other class. The first portion of Math was about our curriculum, which I had fallen asleep through, and the second half was the teacher telling a life story about how Math had changed his life, which I had woken up to, mostly because he decided to pull out a booming monologue about why Math was fundamental for our futures.

My next two classes were History and Theatre, and I dubbed the first four periods of being a hazard to me passing this year. Lunched followed Theatre and I quickly made my way out of the school. I got into my car and pulled out of the school's parking lot. I wasn't sure where I was going to eat, but all I knew was that I wouldn't become one of those weird kids who ate by themselves in the massive cafeteria. I preferred sulking over a fresh cup of coffee or allowing myself to munch on some french-fries. Though, I had forgotten that I wasn't the only one who had a license.

I pulled up to Lima Bean, recognizing a familiar, agony-inducing face. Part of me wanted to leave and never return, but another part of me told me that I had to be brave. I parked next to an old busted Volkswagen and pulled my bag out, cringing as the objects inside as it hit against the steering wheel. I shut my door and pressed the button that made it lock up. And then I turned on a heel and headed for the entrance, watching him the entire time.

There was no bell when I entered. I hoped I could keep my presence on the down-low.

I stood behind a group of unfamiliar girls, my eyes finding the back of his head. He turned around then, coffee in hand as he and his friend walked away from the counter. His eyes caught mine. I wanted to smile at him but instead I casted my eyes to the ground, my arms crossed in front of my body as I allowed my weight to rest on my right leg.

He laughed as he passed me. It was nervous and fake. He was probably trying to distract himself from me by keeping in tune with what his friend had been saying. I couldn't help myself as I looked over my shoulder once I was sure he had left the coffee shop. He walked to his car and unlocked it for him and his friend. But before he climbed in, he looked back at me. I looked away again. I didn't want to, but I had to. The girls in front of me moved forward and I followed their lead.

As soon as I got my coffee I left and I went back to school. There was a pressure in my chest that made it hard to breathe, even though I was getting the perfect amount of oxygen. I could feel my eyes sting and I squeezed the steering wheel, as if I could get rid of them by doing so.

"Don't do this, Nick," I said to myself. "Not today. Not ever. Just…fucking…don't." I took a deep breath and blinked back the tears swelling in my eyes. I reached for my coffee and took a long sip, the heat burning my tongue. The sea of cars helped me forget about where I was emotionally. I parked in the same spot I had managed to get earlier this morning. I collected my things and returned to the large building.

As I walked through the parking lot towards the entrance doors, I saw him standing there. He was drinking his coffee and playing with the handle of his bag with his right hand. It seemed to me that he was waiting. I kept my eyes on my feet as I got closer to the building. I watched as my hand reached for the door. My finger tips had just grazed it when he spoke.

"Nick. Hey."

I pulled back my hand and looked up at him. "Hey."

"I've tried to call you," he said, tossing his coffee in the trash near by.

"I know," I replied, keeping my eyes on his chest.

"You haven't answered," he continued.

"I know," I sighed.

"Would you at least look at me?"

And I did. I met his beautiful hazel eyes and immediately regretted it.

He smiled shyly. "I miss you."

I laughed. It was unnatural and unlike me. "Fuck off."

I didn't wait for him to speak or reach out to me. Instead I stormed through the school's entrance and made my way down a hallway. I wasn't even sure if I needed to be in said hallway, I just needed to get away.

My last four periods were easier. Choir, Spanish, Home Economics and finally Spanish again, where I'd be assisting the teacher with anything and everything. This year would be a breeze; at least, I hoped it would be.

I didn't want to go home at the end of the day, though. My parents would be at work, Mitchell would be out with his friends and without a doubt Grandpa Harold would be sleeping. I'd basically be alone, which I wouldn't have minded if it weren't for the fact that I was trying to get better. But I couldn't avoid not being at home, so I slowly made my way out of the school and took my time driving to my house.

Once there I parked my car by the curb. I checked the mail before going inside, scrunching up my nose at the pointless ads. I unlocked the door and I wondered if maybe I should announce my return, but instead I made my way to the kitchen and tossed the ads on the table before I pulled a Coke out of the fridge. I stood at the counter and I drank the entire thing, not pausing to stop for air. I burped and placed the can in the sink, where someone would move it to the recycle bin.

I proceeded to my bedroom upstairs. Once there I kicked off my shoes and set my bag on the ground. I made sure the door was shut completely and I pulled off my pants. I didn't bother putting on jeans. Instead I tugged my tie and blazer off and flung them towards the direction of my desk and collapsed into my bed. I pulled my sheets up to my neck and turned on my side, my hands finding themselves beneath my face as I allowed myself to succumb to an after-school nap.

A few hours later my mother was waking me up by politely shaking my shoulder.

"Nicky, baby, wake up. It's time to eat," she hummed.

"I'm not hungry." I wasn't.

"It doesn't matter. Come eat, please," she said as she pulled away.

I yawned. "Give me a few minutes."

"You've got ten." With that she left my room and I opened my eyes.

Instantly I regretted sleeping. The right side of my hair was soaked in sweat and my hands were tingling. My body felt achy, almost as if I had a cold taking over each limb. I also had a headache. But the thought of sleeping some more quickly made all of that vanish, at least until my mother hollered at me. I groaned and threw my blankets off my body and walked to my jeans that were lying on the ground near the foot of my bed from Sunday. I slipped them on and made my way downstairs.

My family was sitting at the kitchen table, each with a full plate of food. There was a plate waiting for me. Suddenly I was hungry. I sat beside my brother and he stared at me.

"Why are you sweaty?" he asked as he put a fork-full of chicken into his mouth.

"I was exorcising in my sleep. You should try it some time, fatty," I responded naturally.

My mother scolded me. "Don't be so mean, Nicky! It's unnecessary."

I rolled my eyes and began to eat, not listening as my father and mother talk about their grown-up troubles. My grandpa spoke to his carrots, while my brother texted underneath the table. I sighed and wondered why we even had dinner together if it meant we'd ignore each other like we do. I decided that I'd eat quickly and venture back into my room, but instead my brother turned to me.

"How come you never hang out with Blaine anymore?"

"We broke up," I said. I'm surprised I did.

"When did this happen?" my mother jumped in. Suddenly, all eyes were on me. I stared at my potatoes.

"Last month." Everything I was saying was on autopilot now. The pain returned. Was it normal to feel like your lungs were being smothered by pillows?

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked.

I shrugged.

"I liked Blaine," my dad stated.

I pushed away from the table and ignored my mother's orders for me to return to dinner. I took the stairs two at a time and ran into my room, shutting and locking the door behind me. I could feel the tears then and there was no repressing them this time. My heart began to beat harshly in my chest and I felt myself gasping for air. I sunk to the floor, the only part of me actually touching it was my feet. I braced my hands on my knees and inhaled deeply through my nose. I released it from my mouth, a sob breaking free.

"No, no, no, no, no," I muttered, shutting my eyes tightly. "Don't. Please, don't."

There was a knock at my door and I stood up. "What?"

"Nick…Can I come in?" my brother, Mitchell, asked.

"The door is locked, stupid," I stated through a sudden sob.

"Then why don't you unlock it, 'tard?" he countered.

I walked to the door and opened it up for him, my back facing him as I walked to the window.

"What's your deal?" I heard my door shut and sniffled.

"Mitchell, do me a favor and never, ever let a girl fall in love with you. Hell, don't ever fall in love."

He sighed. "Don't you think you're overreacting?"

"Probably."

"You realize Mom will kill you if you continue to play drama-queen," he stated.

"Leave me alone."

"Only if you tell me why you and Blaine broke up."

I turned to him and clenched my jaw. "How about you go fuck yourself. Leave. Now."

He glared at me and opened my door. "God, you're such an asshole, you know that right?"

"And you're going to grow up to be a tool," I retorted. He flipped me off and left my room, slamming my door as he did so. I walked over to it and locked it.

My stomach growled. It was then that I remembered I hadn't finished my dinner. Fortunately the pain in my chest ceased and all sign of tears had vanished. I took off my jeans and placed them in my hamper before I returned to the comfort of my bed.

Earlier this morning I wished that I could sleep forever. There was no hurt in trying.

-:-

By morning I was fully rested. I woke up to the sound of my alarm and turned it off before I could get overly annoyed with it. I left my bed and entered my bathroom. I brushed my teeth and peed before I got into the shower. It was a quick one, mostly because I didn't feel like spending most my morning being prune-like.

Before I knew it I was off for another day of school. I did my best to avoid Blaine in the hallways. He hadn't stopped calling or texting me, and I was positive that my inbox was full of emails and notifications from him. I didn't dare check anything on my computer these days; they were all reminders of him and us and what I used to be before last month. It was strange being where I was now, not just physically but mentally and emotionally.

Being depressed was something that I figured I'd never use to describe how I was feeling. Yes, sometimes I'd be extremely sad and maybe I had been a little depressed after the passing of my grandma, but that was normal. Depression after a breakup was normal too, but my depression wasn't just because of that. I wasn't sure what else was causing it, but I didn't really want to know either. Part of me knew I should have figured out what was wrong, but I didn't feel like reaching that deep inside myself to uncover the demons, at least not yet.

I entered the halls of Dalton with my head held high. Today I would not cry. Today I would not sulk. Today I would be happy. Happy thoughts. Happy. Happy. Happy. I smiled to myself as I made my way to my locker, wondering what school had in store for me today. I hoped it would be full of things that kept me busy and didn't allow me to zone out. I was most excited for the choir rehearsal, mostly because I had always wanted to be in it but never was. A few friends and I had planned to take it the beginning of freshman year, but it never happened for some reason.

My locker was near my English class, which was also smack-dab in the middle of most of my other classes, which meant the commute to it wouldn't be too tedious and time consuming. It was bare. I wondered if I should maybe stick photos onto the inner door of it. Maybe some magnets? I could be really playful and silly and buy a dollar pack of those alphabet magnets for children. That sounded fun. But as I stared at the emptiness of my locker, I realized I had yet to need it. The teacher's hadn't assigned text books yet and the most I could do was hang my jacket up. I would carry my bag throughout the day since it held all my personal belongings, but it bothered me to keep my locker so bare. I reached into my bag and felt around, pulling out a pencil that wasn't even sharpened. I set it on the shelf and nodded to myself._ That'll do for now,_ I thought. The pencil began to roll to the back of the shelf. I sighed and shut my locker door.

"Having fun?" a voice suddenly asked, making me jump. I pressed my hand over my heart dramatically and looked behind me. A thin boy in a Dalton sweater stared at me with an amused expression, his hands full with a binder and an apple. He took a bite of the red fruit, smiling and chewing as he waited for me to say something. I looked at his hair. It was flat and blonde, stirringly ordinary.

I found my voice. "What?"

He shrugged and laughed. "I'dunno. I thought I should say something."

"What?" I repeated. He swallowed and paused, setting his binder between his knees and squeezing them, throwing his left hand out towards me.

"I'm Jeff Sterling."

I felt my eyebrows raise at him, but I took his hand in mine and accepted the shake.

"Nick Duval."

"I've never met a Nick before."

I laughed and took my hand out of his. "What are the odds?" It had been a rhetorical question, but I guess he felt obligated to answer.

"Rather slim, I suppose. But that all depends on the generation and place, not to mention where the culture is at, and what's a popular trend. Damn Hollywood influencing our daily lives."

"Can I help you with something?" It was blunt and rude, but I was honestly curious.

He laughed and took another bite of his apple while trying to position his binder correctly in his hand. "I'm new here, to the school, and I just want…um." He stopped talking and glared at the floor between us, his expression changing from embarrassed and antsy to pissed off in one second flat. "Crap, forget it. I'll just…" He looked up at me, his brown eyes meeting mine again. I felt my eyebrow rise and a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"You'll just what?" I prompted.

He sighed and threw his head back dramatically. "It's just that you're cute and I'm new and I want a friend. How lame am I?"

I felt warmth touch my cheeks. "You've got balls, that's for sure."

His eyes widened and his head came down. "Oh, God, you're with someone aren't you? Who is it? The lead football stud? No, the school doesn't have a football team. Maybe the school president? Or the Prom King? The rich kid? It's someone who has all the power, isn't it? I'm going to get beaten to death. Is it a girl? God, tell me it's not a girl. My gay-dar doesn't work. Shit."

I laughed and it caused him to look eve more scared than he was.

"You need to relax," I told him. "There's no one at this school who has that power, except for maybe the Headmaster. And no, I'm not with anyone. And yes, I'm gay." I wasn't quite sure why I told him that, seeing as how I wasn't ready to have some type of relationship going.

He let out a breath of relief. "Thank fuck."

"And I'm sorry, but I can't be your friend." I secured my bag on my shoulder and waved a goodbye, heading towards my English class.

"Why not?" I heard him ask, the sound of his dress-shoes against the linoleum catching up with me.

"I've sworn off friends." Or rather they've sworn me off.

He snorted. "That's stupid. Why would you do that?"

"Because I can do what I like. This year is about me and passing all my classes. No time for distractions."

"You're one of those guys who care about school more than they do their social status, huh?"

"Yes." No.

He grabbed my elbow and pulled me to a halt. I rolled my eyes and looked at him.

"Look, Nick, I'm not sure what your deal is but I'm rather persistent and stubborn. Fine, don't have friends. That's your choice. But I don't need you to fake it for my sake."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I'm new here and I don't know anyone and I'm really, really shy."

I cut him off with a laugh. "Sure you are. Anyone who was shy would not start a conversation out of the blue."

"Fine, I'm not shy. But all my life I've been on the outside looking in and I just want to have a life where things are normal for me for once. I want to be something bigger than I am. I want my name to be legend."

"Jeff, I really hate to be a dick to you but there are some things you need to know if you want to go down the stereotypical path of being a somebody." I felt my hands begin to shake with sudden fury. "Looking still fresh out of your lonely middle-school phase will only cause people to judge you without a second thought. And trying to become anything with me will send you spiraling down the bottom of the heap. Kindly fuck off and figure this shit out for yourself."

I walked away from him then and took a right, leading myself into my first period class. I took a seat in the back, mostly because I wasn't in the mood to seem like I was involved in what the teacher had to say. I thought that maybe my day would be an okay one, but already it was falling to shit and I wanted to scream.

What was that kid's deal? It's was creepy. And what made him think that I had some type of high power in the school anyway? The only people who knew my name were the ones who I'd gone to school with the longest, which wasn't many. I was just perplexed at the kid. Never in my life had I seen a scenario like that, even it was merely for flirtation. And if he was so desperate to be on top of the food chain he sure as hell wouldn't have came to school looking like he'd spent looking like he'd been given birth by a male lawyer.

The bell rang and I jumped. The teacher shot a look at me and shook her head.

"Deep in thought, Mister Duval?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It's been one of those mornings."

"Well, grab your journal and jot down everything. It'll help."

I got out of my seat and maneuvered my way through incoming students finding desks. Once they all noticed I was getting my journal, the swarmed in to get theirs. We all had written our names on the front with a large, black marker. No one realized that the journals had been placed in alphabetical order at some point, and even if they did it no longer mattered because the books were being knocked over and shuffled up. I had gone from being the first one to get their journal to being the last, mostly because I didn't feel like being elbowed to death.

I returned to my seat, journal in hand, and I set it on my desk. Some opened there's and began to write, others had last minute conversations with neighbors or texted on their cell phones. I tapped my fingers against my journal and wondered what I should write about, but before I could even figure out anything, the teacher hushed us and told us to put our journals on the ground.

"You'll spend the last half hour of class to write in your journals. For now we'll be concentrating on the lesson."

It was easy to concentrate at first, just like I had planned to do until it was time for me to rant and vent on a piece of paper, but instead I found myself staring at two guys in front of me. They were passing notes, which was totally middle-school and, well, gay. Yet I found it endearing, especially because technology was ruining some of my greatest pastimes. These two, however, weren't being very secretive. And it was obvious the teacher knew what they were doing, but she was on the phone, talking to some authority figure—or parent. Hell, maybe it was her husband.

They were talking about me, though. I could see it in the way they'd occasionally look back at me and snigger. It made my stomach grow tense. What did they have to say about me? Before I could get too worked up about it, one of the boys was setting a folded piece of paper on my desk. I waited for him to turn back around before I grabbed it.

_Is it true that you and Blaine split? x_

Why should he care? Why should anyone? And what was up with everyone noticing now? It had been nearly two months of he and I being apart. I lifted up my pen and started my reply.

_What's it to you?_

I wasn't sure how to give it to him, so I tapped his shoulder and he looked back me. He grabbed the note from my hand and sat up straight and pulled off his jacket, almost as if he was getting ready for something serious. I watched him lean over the note then as he scribbled down his answer and gave me the note back.

_Rumor has it that he's still head over heels for you. You do realize that anyone would kill to have him right? x_

_Well they can have him. He and I are no longer together._

_Wouldn't give it up for him? x_

_Give what up?_

_Don't play innocent. Maybe it is a good thing you two broke up. There's more opportunity for him elsewhere. x_

_Are you saying you're interested?_

_Perhaps. x_

I crumpled up the note in my hand and he smirked at me. I didn't even know who he was, all I knew was that he was someone that I should watch my back for. Mrs. Sampson hung up the phone and stood up, her hands coming together audibly.

"There's forty-five minutes left of class. Use this time to work on your journal. And remember, if you don't turn them in you won't get credit."

I shoved the balled-up note into my bag and then reached for my journal. I set it on my desk and opened it to the freshest page.

* * *

><p><em>Entry #2 – Tuesday the 24th, August<em>

I feel like today is an omen. My morning started off pretty okay until the new kid came up to me. I've never seen someone act that way. I'm usually not so rude to strangers, but I was just so confused about him. If he really wanted some popularity why didn't he go after someone from the Lacrosse team or someone whose face was plastered throughout the school. Why me? I'm a no one. At least I used to be. I'm starting to think that Blaine's relationship with me was much bigger than I thought it had been. People date each other all the time. And Blaine wasn't popular, neither was I. So why do people seem to suddenly think that what we had was a big deal?

What pains me most about all this is that they're finally noticing. Blaine and I had been together since the end of freshman year. We were practically attached at the hip during school hours. We were an active couple. We always made sure that we were out in the public. And then a month goes by where he doesn't call or drop by. A month goes by of me locking myself away in my room. No one noticed. And then last night they do, but only because my brother pointed it out. And now with the blonde in front of me inquiring about it it makes me believe that something is up.

I hate to be so paranoid, but how could I not? It's not like people in this school actual give a fuck about me…but I can't help but feel that something's going on.

People are noticing me. Why now?

* * *

><p>I shut my journal closed and sighed. I was sure there was more to write but my brain hurt and my eyes were growing tired. Those boys were laughing again and I allowed my forehead to fall down on the top of my hands. I groaned internally and remained in that position until the bell rang. I put my journal on the shelf nearest to the door and exited the classroom.<p>

The hallway was buzzing with students, even more so than yesterday, and I did my best to steer clear of the people who wouldn't bother to watch out where they were going. I always found it slightly odd that there was a left lane and right lane. We weren't on a road and there were no signs that told us this; we just automatically did so. The right side of the hall was going north and the left was going south. Basic. It was a total pain if you had to get across the hall, but you waited for the right gape—which I had been doing when I ran into Jeff.

"Nick, hey!" he said, leaning beside the open doorway of my math class.

I cut across the hallway and entered the room, not willing to stop and talk to him.

"You're in this class? Awesome! We can sit next to each other." He was practically breathing down my neck. I turned around quickly, his chest bumping into me. He took a step back and held his hands up, smiling.

"You need to seriously back off," I warned.

"I'm just being friendly," he countered.

"A little too friendly. Jeff, just leave me alone."

"Yeah, leave him alone." I turned my head to the sound of the voice, watching Thad Richards stand up from his desk and walk over to us.

"All right. You don't have to tell me twice," Jeff said, walking past the two of us and heading to a desk in the back. Thad watched with narrowed eyes before he turned his attention to me.

"You okay, Nick?" he asked, his voice sweet.

I nodded and took my seat in the front row, farthest away from both Jeff and Thad. But before I knew it, Thad was taking a seat behind me, smiling brightly. The teacher wasn't in the classroom yet and something told me he wouldn't be in for a few more minutes. The bell rang and everyone took their seats, regardless of the teacher's lack of presence.

"So, Nick…" Thad began and I turned around unwilling in my seat. "How was your summer?"

"Fine. And yours?"

He shrugged. "Pretty fantastic. I want to France."

I smiled politely. "I heard. I was jealous."

He laughed and nodded. "Yeah, Blaine told me that." I nodded too and started to turn back to face the white-board, but Thad wasn't quite finished speaking to me.

"So, you and Blaine split?" he asked me, hesitant.

"Didn't he tell you?" I asked back.

"No. I only heard about it yesterday."

"Why hasn't he told you? You're his best friend after all."

He shrugged again. "I don't know. I tried to talk to him about it, but he acted as if he had no idea what I was talking about." He paused and let his head fall to the side, his hands coming together on his desk. "Was it mutual or…?"

I was stumped then. Did Blaine not get that we were through? Was I not subtle enough? I didn't officially tell him that we were through, and he certainly wasn't the one ending the relationship. I didn't clarify to him that I wanted to break up…I just stopped. I stopped everything with him.

"I sort of just…ended it…" I told him.

"I don't think Bee knew that. I think he thinks you two are still together." The teacher entered the classroom and called for our attention. Thad stood up and leaned his head towards me. "You should probably let him know." He walked back to his desk two rows away. I kept my eyes toward the teacher and sighed.

Thad was right. It was cruel of me to keep dragging Blaine on an invisible leash. But Blaine was smart, wouldn't he have gotten the hint? It's quite simple: someone stops talking to you and that's the end of a relationship, or friendship. But it could also mean that someone's mad at you or keeping something from you. Perhaps it wasn't that simple after all. Perhaps in some sense he and I were still together.

That was unacceptable. I quickly bent to the left and fished out my cell phone. I kept it hidden in my bag, not quite ready to have the teacher place me on his shit list. I found Blaine in my contacts and sent a text.

_We need to talk. Lunch?_

I hated that I had to talk to him. I hated that I had to face him. I hated him for making me do this. I hated myself for not making things more obvious.

I hated my fucking life.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

* * *

><p><strong><em> The Beginning of My Life; Getting There<em>**

* * *

><p>Lunch came quicker than I thought it would. Classes were a little busier than yesterday, but it was still the first week and things weren't too heavy yet. Regardless, my first four periods were over and I found myself standing at my locker, my back pressed against it as I stared at the passing bodies, waiting for Blaine. It was horrible waiting, mostly because I kept picturing his face and about twenty scenarios of how this could go, all of which either ended with him sweeping me off my feet romantically or me breaking out in tears. A few times I saw him kicking the living shit out of me.<p>

I looked to my left and watched as he made his way to me from the end of the hallway, my back straightening as I watched him. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows and his bag slung over his right shoulder. He high-fived some familiar faces in the hallway. He looked so cool.

"Nick, hey," he said, his words breathy as he walked up to me.

"Hi," I smiled.

"Are you still mad at me?" Was he actually asking me this?

I looked around to make sure the hallway was clear before I spoke. "Blaine, we're over."

He sighed and leaned against the locker next to mine. "Don't listen to the rumors, Nick."

"They're not rumors," I replied. "I don't think you got the hint…but you're birthday…do you not recall anything?"

He swallowed audibly and glanced down at the ground. "I said I was sorry."

"Sorry doesn't fix something like that."

"I thought that you'd understand…that I was drunk and…"

"Bee, what you did…ruined me, as a person. I'd be insane if I stayed with you after that."

"I know. I just…I love you, Nick…and what I did was stupid and fucked up and..." He stopped talking and shut his mouth, and I could have sworn I heard him sniffling. And then I realized: no matter what happened, no matter how pissed off I was at him, no matter how scared and heartbroken I was, I still loved Blaine. But it wasn't enough.

"We're over, Bee, okay?" I whispered as I pushed away from my locker. He nodded and walked away from me, heading to the loud roar of the cafeteria.

I was shocked when I didn't cry. I was shocked when the hatred I felt for him slowly disappeared. I was shocked that it was easy. Why was it so easy? There had to be something wrong. _There had to be._

"What was that all about?" Jeff's voice asked. I turned my head and saw him standing there, an amused smile on his face with his hands stuck in his back pockets.

"I'm going to have to put a restraining order out on you, aren't I?"

"If you feel like it. But before you do, you should know that I suffer from Aspergers."

I felt my eyes widen. "Oh."

"Yeah, I was talking to the counselor and she said that I really need to steer clear of me and my mouth and talking to people. Well, not exactly in those words, but I'd like to think that that would be better for me." I had to tilt my right ear closer to him so I could catch the words he was saying. He was speaking so fast it was all almost turning into some type of mumble. "Basically, I'm sorry…and I'd really like it if you'd give me a second chance. I could really use a friend." His stared back at me with puppy-dog brown eyes and I sighed.

"Jeff, you seem like a sweet guy…but I'm not interested in having a friend right now."

"Why not?"

"My life is really…it's confusing right now and I just…" I just don't want to have another loose end to tie.

He sighed sadly and nodded. "I get it. Thanks, though, for forgiving me for being a total creeper."

"No problem. Um, I'm going to go eat now…" I said as I started to walk towards to cafeteria, not that that was where I planned to go. I didn't wait for him to respond as I treaded down the hall, the sound of my shoes flapping against the ground, echoing slightly in the quiet hall.

-:-

The first few weeks of school went by. Everyone now knew that Blaine and I were no longer an item, and I honestly had no idea how popular our relationship was. Some asked me personal questions about our sex life, about what he likes in someone. Others asked me if I was free on weekends, asked me what my favorite places were and told me how hot I was. I was flattered, but not interested. And Blaine…he was still single as far as I knew.

Jeff still pressed his friendship onto me, but not as crazily as he had the second day of school. I was less of a dick to him. I felt bad for the kid; he was new and socially awkward. He had no one and I often found him just walking the halls absentmindedly.

Like the last Friday of September. I was walking to the teacher's lounge to use the copy-machine for Mr. Abed, the Spanish teacher. He wanted me to make eight copies of a worksheet. I was twirling the hall pass around my neck; it was just simple laminated piece of paper hooked onto a shoelace—made into a necklace of some type. I was pulling it and tugging it, a soft whistle coming from my lips as I strutted down the hallway. It was empty and the only noise was that of my little song and the voices spilling out of the open classrooms.

Jeff suddenly appeared, bounding down a set of stairs. He looked over and saw me, paused on the last step, his hand went up and he gave me a gentle wave. I waved back, smiling and kept my eyes on him. Once I walked by him he jumped off the step and came up beside me.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"The teacher's lounge. I've gotta make copies. And you?"

He shrugged. "Just walking around."

"Don't you ever get in trouble for that?"

"No one really cares. Plus all they can do is tell me to get back to class and I pretend that I do but just go into a new hallway."

"I am jealous," I stated.

"You can do it anytime you'd like."

I sighed. "I wish. But classes are sort of important to me. I want to pass with flying colors."

"School's easy for me," he replied.

"Is that so?" I questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Yup."

The teacher's lounge came into view and I waved him a goodbye as I entered it, looking behind me as I watched him go up another set of stairs. I went to the copy machine and did as I was asked to do before returning back to the classroom.

That was mostly what would happen between him and I; a run in, a short greeting, an awkward and swift goodbye. I had yet to give him a proper apology. I was feeling really guilty for the way I'd treated him when I first met him. I even wanted to make Thad tell him sorry, but that wasn't my place.

This weekend was dull. I found myself oddly hanging around my family, lingering over shoulders and sitting beside my father as he watched old westerns on the TV. In the kitchen I helped my brother make smoothies and we drank them together, laughing over stupid things as we called each other nasty nicknames. Our mother scolded us, of course, but once she was out of sight we continued our playful banter. It was two in the afternoon when I found myself in my bedroom cleaning, even sorting out clothes. I wasn't sure why I felt so antsy on this Sunday. I just wanted to stay active in a serene setting.

My father scrounged up some old boxes from the basement and let me have them so I could put my clothes in them. I marked one box with "donate" and the other as "trash". I blasted my stereo and sang as I held clothes up and examined them, trying to figure out what meaning they had once had in my life.

Mitchell walked past my open door, looking in casually as he made his way to his room. He turned around and stood at the entrance of my room, his hands holding his laptop.

"What are you doing?" he asked before he walked in and sat on my bed, nearly getting swallowed up by the pile of clothes.

"Going through my things. I'm such a pack-rat." I held up a small t-shirt of Spiderman. "Did you know that I've had this since fourth grade?"

"You wouldn't even be able to fit an arm into that thing. Why do you still have it?"

"I'm one of those people that don't like to let things go."

He nodded slowly. "You're one of those people that would end up on Hoarders."

I felt my eyes grow wide as I tossed the old shirt into the donate box. "Please kill me if I get that bad."

"Oh, I will. But if you hoard animals I will simply let you live with your poor life decision."

"You're so kind. I'm glad that I have a brother that cares so much."

"Shut up," he replied, opening his laptop and leaning against my pillows.

"Why aren't you out with your friends?" I asked him after a few minutes.

"Why aren't you out with yours?" he retorted, his tone snappy.

"Touché," I mumbled as I sorted through clothes.

A few minutes passed and I decided to take a break. I left Mitchell on my bed and went downstairs. I found myself in the kitchen, the fridge wide open as I bent over and searched for something delicious to eat. I spotted the silver of a yogurt lid and I reached for it. I pulled it out and kicked the door shut with my foot as I reached for a spoon from the utensil drawer. I was just taking a lick of the label when the doorbell rang.

I made my way out of the kitchen to it, expecting it to be a neighbor. Instead there stood Blaine, his hair dripping and his clothes spotted with dampness. I looked over his shoulder and noticed that it was raining. It bothered me that I hadn't noticed it.

"Hey," he said, a little breathless.

"What are you doing here?" I hated to be so blunt but it was called for.

"Can I come in? It's cold and I'm wet and ya know…its cold…"

He made an attempt to step inside but I only blocked the entry way and crossed my arms. He took a step back and frowned.

"I guess that I have a hard time making myself clear when I speak to you," I started, a sad sigh coming from me. I looked up at him and met his hazel eyes, watching them stare back at me with naivety. "I don't want anything to do with you. I don't want to see you. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want you to exist."

"You hate me, don't you?"

"Yes. No. I'm not sure how I feel about you. I just know that you're bad for me…and I don't want that in my life. Ever."

He nodded and looked down at my feet. They suddenly itched but I kept them still.

"You should—" I was about to suggest that he leave but my brother found us.

"Hey, man!" He walked over to us and stood by my side, his mouth wide with a smile. It pained me to see this. Blaine was Mitchell's hero, his idol…his best friend, in a sense.

"Mitch, hey, buddy," Blaine greeted back.

Mitchell suddenly looked at me, glaring. "Why are you making him stand outside? He's not an animal." He looked back to Blaine and motioned for him to enter.

Blaine glanced up at me to see if it was okay and I simple shook my head.

"I actually have to go. But I'll see you guys around." He waved and stepped off into the rain, which was falling down harder than it had before. I shut the door and headed back to the kitchen, Mitchell making a pissed off noise behind me.

"What was that about? Why were you such an ass to him?"

I picked up my yogurt and began to eat it. "He and I are no longer together."

"So!" he shouted. "It doesn't mean you can't be friends with him. Weren't you two super close before you started going out?"

"I know that you have some type of crush on him, but you're going to have to get over it. Blaine and I are through with everything and anything," I stated back, my tone harsh.

"I just…I don't get it, Nick. You two were in love and perfect and…and…and."

I looked up when it was obvious he had nothing else to say. I licked white yogurt off my spoon and noticed his red rimmed eyes.

"You're seriously not about to cry are you?" I asked him then, the guilt wasting no time to find me.

"No!" he screamed, turning around and fleeing from the kitchen.

"Mitchell!" I called after him, making my way up the stairs, my yogurt unfinished and on the counter.

I found him in my room, where he was softly crying into my pillows. I climbed over a mountain of clothes to get to him, my body finding its way next to his. I put my hand on his back and rubbed it, searching for something to say. Nothing came, so I just continued to comfort him wordlessly. His crying eventually stopped and his breathing slowed. I watched the rise and fall of his chest from the sides. He was asleep. Before I knew it my eyes were shutting and I was joining him.

He woke me up an hour later as he made his way out of my bed, laptop in hand. I watched him leave through tired eyes. I continued to lie in bed, sleep not crossing my mind as an option. I just stared at my window. The blinds were pulled up and I followed countless raindrops as they slid off the glass to the ground below. How could I have not noticed that it had been raining? It was bizarre. Rain was my favorite type of weather. I loved the darkness and coolness; I loved the smell and the sounds. I even knew it was going to rain from watching the weather early this morning, yet I forgot and never detected it. It shouldn't be bothering me the way it is. Nothing should be wrong about this. And yet, I could feel deep in my bones and in my core that something was awfully wrong with me.

The following day wasn't one I would have suspected. Eyes looked at me; my name ran off their lips. Occasionally I heard Blaine's name, and I could have sworn I even heard Jeff's. People were talking about me. No one knew me yet they talked as if they did. They had no idea what had happened between me and Blaine, yet the rumors were flying around and smacking me each time I thought they were gone. The morning remained as hushed whispers and stares, but by gym class people were starting to be more courageous.

I stood in the back of the gym, stretching my muscles out as we were told to do us. A senior named Ian made his way to me, his eyes harsh and catlike.

"Can I ask you a question?" He didn't sound realistically interested.

I nodded and tried to touch my toes with my fingers without bending too much.

"Is it true that Anderson dumped you because you gave him AIDS?"

I felt my eyes snap to him and a narrow. "No. Who told you that?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Nothing, it's just something I overheard. So you didn't get AIDS from a forty-year old pedophile?"

"Of course not," I said.

"I really don't want to come off as nosey or anything," he began, slowly getting down on his knees as he moved closer to me. I turned my head to face the front of me, noticing the countless eyes on us. I felt his breath hit my ear and the smell of Axe wafting from him.

"The entire school is convinced that you forcefully had sex with Anderson and gave him AIDS. And that new weird kid is your next guy. It's said that you two are blood-brothers, so to speak."

"What!" I hissed, standing up and nearly knocking him over. "Who said this?"

Ian got back up on his feet and wiped his hands on his black shorts. "Anderson, apparently. But you didn't hear it from me." I watched as he walked back to his part of the gym, his friends surrounding him.

I was fuming. How could I not be? Blaine had no right to make these rumors. None. He'd already done so much damage and now he was doing this? I did my best to track him down, but classes got in the way. As soon as I was in my final period I took the hall pass and left the Spanish classroom—it's not like I had anything better to do.

I stomped down the hallway, glancing into the open classrooms and searching for his familiar, stupid face. Teachers got hissy at me and I heard people call me things as soon as they recognized me. In spite of all that, I continued on my search.

Finally I found him out on the Lacrosse field. He was sitting on the bleachers with Thad and two of his other friends, all of them laughing carelessly. Obviously they must have decided to skip the final school period, which was stupid. Plus, why linger? They could just leave. I made my way over to them. Thad spotted me and slapped Blaine's knee with the back of his hand and pointed towards me. Blaine looked over his shoulder and rose to his feet.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I snarled, not waiting for me to get to the group.

"I have no idea who started the rumors," he quickly defended.

"That's bullshit. It was you! You got pissed because I ended things. If anyone has the right to be pissed it's me."

"I know—"

"I don't think you do. But maybe we should get someone else's opinion on this."

Blaine's eyes grew wide and he ran to me, his arms clutching my shoulders.

"Please don't. Please, I'm begging. You'll ruin everything."

_"I'll ruin everything?"_ I felt the tears start then.

"Yes, you will. And I'm sorry but you really need to just play along." He clenched his jaw and looked over his shoulder. His friends were curious. Why wouldn't they be?

"This isn't fair, Blaine. I don't want this."

He looked back at me. "Me either, but this is what's gotta happen."

"Make it stop," I hissed.

"I'm trying…really, but the more I deny it the more…pity I get, like everyone thinks I'm in denial or something."

"And everyone thinks I'm some rapist giving everyone STD's!" I countered.

"Hey!" a voice suddenly boomed. Blaine's eyes flashed past me and his friends stood up and scattered. "What the hell? You should all be in class!" I recognized the voice of Coach Kirk.

I felt Blaine's arms go around me and I felt the need to push him away, but I didn't. "We'll talk later, I promise." He kissed my forehead and disappeared, leaving me alone in the bleachers with a red faced man who chose physical anything over emotional beings.

"Duval, get your ass back to class. Now."

I listened to his voice and walked past him to my Spanish class, resisting the urge to cry.

-:-

Blaine was true to his word. I sat in my car, his body next to me in the passenger seat. It was raining again.

"I didn't think things would get so out of control," he said in the shelter of the vehicle.

"What? The rumors you obviously started but deny?" I replied.

"No," he sighed. "Us. You and me. How did things go from fairy-tale to…"

"Horror story?" I finished.

"…yeah…"

He had said it so sadly and quietly that I had to look at him, trying to figure out where this was coming from and what it meant.

"Why did you do it?" I suddenly asked.

He looked up at me. "What?"

"You know what," I laughed without humor.

"I told you, things happened and I had to make some choices. I'm trying to fix things, but it's hard."

"Who started the rumors?"

"I'm not sure. Anyone, I guess. During the first week people were wondering if we'd broken up or not, and I couldn't really answer because I didn't know. And then Thad asked me about it and then you said we were."

"You honestly didn't start them?" My voice felt small and I shrunk into my seat. I was feeling guilty again.

"No. I even tried not to answer everyone's questions after you dumped my ass." He smiled and laugh, and I couldn't help but do the same.

"I guess I forgive you then."

"Does this mean we can be friends again?"

I laughed, this time with humor. "You're kidding me, right?" He dropped his head down to his chest and moved his knees closer together. He nearly resembled a child. "I told you I was done with you. This is the last time I ever want to have to speak to you again, let alone look at you."

"Do I really disgust you that much?" he asked monotone.

I nodded my head. He must have seen it because he sighed and reached for his back-pack by his feet.

"Well, I still love you. I always will. And my heart's broken."

I bit my lip and nodded once more. "Mine too."

He turned his head to look at me. He smiled softly. "I love you."

Blaine didn't wait for me to respond. He simply opened up my car door and stepped out into the rain, disappearing into his own car.

-:-

It was October 26th and it was my birthday. In school I got a few "happy birthdays", but that was mostly from teachers and the few students who didn't catch up with the rumor mill. Jeff was most excited for it, and I found myself smiling very widely at my locker after lunch. He'd decorated it with wrapping paper with color cut-out letters that announced what today was. When I opened my locker, confetti spilled out onto the ground and balloons attacked me. I was laughing nervously as my locker neighbor watched me with amusement when Jeff appeared.

"Happy birthday!" he exclaimed, pulling me into a one-sided hug.

"Thanks, Jeff. But how did you get into my locker?"

He shrugged. "I know people."

"You're insane," I muttered as I reached for some text books while trying to keep the balloons inside. I reached into the back of my locker, my hands feeling around. I felt something that was hard and a few inches up higher than most the books. It came with something stringy. I pulled back immediately and looked at Jeff. "You got me a present?"

His head lolled to the side. "Yeah, but I'm not giving it to you till your party."

"Then what's this?" I ask merrily, pulling out the present that was wrapped in sparkly pink paper. I held it up to him and he simply shrugged.

"I have no clue how that got in there," he said. He sounded genuine. "Does it say who it's from?"

I flipped it around in my hands. With a shake of my head I pulled the lid off, starring sadly at what was there for me.

"What is it?" Jeff asked, looking into it. He pulled back and grabbed it from me. "It's your birthday. You don't need this." I watched as he walked away to the nearest trash can.

"What was it?" a voice asked. I turned around to my locker neighbor (Sebastian, I think his name was) and sighed.

"A dildo with AIDS written all over it, along with a note that says 'property of Nicholas Duval', who is me."

"That's morbid," he responded. "Don't let them get the best of you, especially on your birthday."

I felt myself smile. "Easier said than done. But thanks."

I grabbed the books I needed and shut my locker, a few balloons escaping. I nearly slipped on the confetti but I kept my cool as I walked to my Chemistry class. As I took a familiar seat in the back, Jeff stepped into the classroom.

"Why is everyone so fucked up?" he asked. The teacher cleared her throat but Jeff didn't pay her no mind. "It's your birthday."

"It doesn't bother me," I said to him, setting my text book in front of me. The bell wouldn't be ringing for another ten minutes. Ten minutes of Jeff. I groaned audibly.

"It does. How could it not? That would bother me." He walked over to me and sat atop the table, his body pushing the text book near the edge. "You need to stick up for yourself, Nick."

"There's no point. It's high school. People will get bored."

"You said that last month. It's only gotten worse."

I shook my head. "I really don't care."

"Well, I do," he reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. "You're my friend and I'm not going to sit around and watch you get bullied."

"I really appreciate that, Jeff. But let it go. Trust me, in a few months people will have forgotten about me." My stomach ached at how true the words were.

"I won't. I'm sorry, but Sterling's don't back down. Nor do they take it lying down." He slid of the table and gave me a large smile with a nod. "I'll see you later, birthday boy."

With that he walked out of the classroom, leaving me alone to get questioning stares from Ms. Reynolds.

I figured my day couldn't get much worse, and in a way…it didn't.

In choir practice we all found ourselves working hard on some choreography when our class was interrupted by a freshman named Phillip.

"May I help you?" Wes, one of the council members, asked.

"Uh," he pulled out a bouquet of roses from behind his back. "Special delivery for Nicholas Duval."

Everyone snapped their eyes to me and I swallowed. I didn't wait for him to come to me. I sped-walked over to where he was and he held out the roses for me.

"Blaine Anderson wishes you a happy birthday."

"These are from Blaine?" I questioned, taking the bouquet from him. I didn't remember bringing them up to my nose to sniff, but I did.

"Yes. He asked me to bring them to you. He said you would understand."

I didn't, but I pretended that I did with a nod.

"Uh. Bye." He walked out of the choir room and I turned back to face the Warblers, all of them murmuring to each other as I they watched me cautiously. I felt like laughing at their faces.

_Ha,_ I wanted to say. _You all think that I'm so evil human being who ruined Blaine's life. These roses say differently, don't they?_

Saturday there was a party. It was supposed to be small. Just me and Jeff and Mitchell and perhaps my parents.

No, it was much bigger.

Boys who called me nasty names showed up and acted like we'd always been friends. Man-sluts who tried to get in my pants…well, they tried to get in my pants. Blaine even showed up, though he stayed clear away from me. My parents had somehow vanished, leaving just Mitchell and my grandfather to keep some control. And booze. Lots of it. But I guess it would be best if I started from the morning and up.

In stories they have climaxes. This would be mine.

This is the beginning of my end.

* * *

><p>"I've been secretly falling apart." I say it to my grandfather. He's far too out of his mind to realize I'm there or to comprehend what I'm saying, but it's nice to get it off my chest. "I don't know what to do about it. But I feel it. I'm sad, Grandpa." He blinks just once but continues to stare at the empty plate in front of him. "It's a weird sad, though. It's a type of sad that sort of just consumes you. I'm not crying sad or heartbroken sad. I'm just…sad…always." I close my mouth and lean against my chair.<p>

No one's quite sure what my grandfather's deal is. The doctors say PTSD, which seems logical. Mentally he's there, but he's just shut us all out. He joins us for meals and the rare family occasion, even road trips, but beyond those he stays down in the basement and keeps to himself. He no longer talks to any of us—he no longer reacts to us. We wonder if he's gone deaf, but no one knows, not even the doctors. His hair is white and his blue eyes seem almost gray. He's old; maybe around eighty years old. I miss him. He has no choice but to live with us, mostly because years ago he said he'd rather be dead then live in a home—which I don't blame him.

I heard my mother's voice and I looked away from him. My mother came to the table with a stack of pancakes. My brother and father rushed in from outside, their shirts stained with sweat from an early game of basketball.

"I love birthday breakfasts," my brother said as he grabbed a piece of sausage and shoved it into his mouth.

"Yo también," my father said in Spanish, agreeing with Mitchell.

We all stacked our plates with delicious objects of our morning desires. Mitchell and my dad goofed off, which was nice to see. Usually a fourteen year old didn't click so well with his father. I sort of wished me and my mother were closer, but I was kind of glad she didn't give a shit about my life. It made keeping secrets easier.

"So what are your birthday plans?" she asked me as she ungratefully took a bite of bacon.

I shrugged. "Staying in, I guess."

"That's so lame!" Mitchell butted in. "You're seventeen now. You need to do something fun!"

"I'm fine with being lame," I replied.

My dad smiled at me. "You should throw a party."

I stared at my dad in shock, and when I saw my mom nod her head in agreement, my mouth dropped.

"That's okay, guys, really. Why don't we all just go out to dinner instead?"

My mom shook her head. "I can't, sweetie. I have to work graveyard tonight, and your father is going out with the boys."

My dad was into bowling, almost at the point where he was starting to look ridiculous with the handle-bar mustache. His team was called "Wii Bowl", which is the declaration that they first started off playing bowling on the Wii and graduated to actual bowling. I guess things that are usually marked as a waste of time can turn into actual lifestyles.

"We can invite some people over, Nick," Mitchell said, brown eyes wide with excitement. "Just a few, though." He added the last bit to calm my mother, who looked like she was second guessing her decision to allow a get together.

"It sounds good to me," my dad added.

My mom smiled at me and nodded. "A party is fine. Just small. And no booze."

We wrapped up breakfast, all of us eating more than we should have. Mitchell and I stood in the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. He talked about who we could invite and what type of music we could play and I did my best to zone him out, at least until a name slipped out of his lips.

"Doesn't Blaine's older brother DJ?"

"No," I abruptly said.

Mitchell started the dishwasher and pressed his lips together before he spoke. "I'm pretty sure he does. Isn't his name like, Cooper or something?"

"We're not inviting Blaine," I clarified.

"We have to invite him."

I stared at him. "No, we don't. It's my party. No Blaine."

"I don't see why we shouldn't invite him."

"You're nearly just as thick headed as he is," I stated. "I'm going to say this once. Me plus Blaine equals not in this lifetime. Our relationship is over. Our friendship is over. I don't even want to look at him. All right?"

Mitchell frowned. "What did he do that was so awful, anyway? All the rumors say this is all on you."

"And since when did you start listening to rumors?" I asked him, my tone getting ruder by the second.

He muttered something and I sighed. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Just," he started, searching for words as he stared aimlessly at his laptop screen. "Who the hell are we inviting to this? Who are your friends and who aren't? I mean, I know we're on socially different levels in school and I'm not sure who you're buddies with."

I rolled my eyes at my brother. He was a freshman, and he was right; we were on different levels of the social pyramid. He was near the top, and with his budding I-play-every-sport-like-I'm-a-pro attitude, he'd be at the top before senior year. I resigned near the bottom, almost at the point where I wasn't even part of anything. Though, with the Blaine situation, I had risen to the top, but not because I was great but because I was despised. They put me up high to bring me down lower.

"I don't want a party," I said to him as he scrolled through social network sites.

"Tough titty," he retorted.

"I'm serious!"

He turned around in his chair and looked at me, eyeing the laptop in front of me.

"I get it. You're pulling away from people. And as your brother, I refuse to watch you turn into a pariah. So people are talking shit about you. You know what you do?" He paused to see if I would answer. When I didn't, he continued, "You get over it and you give them something else to talk about."

"Like what?"

"That's not up to me. It's your life; either you can let them control it or you can move the fuck on."

I groaned and let my head fall back against the headboard of my bed. "They're not controlling my life, Mitch! I seriously don't care what they say or do. I just want to be left in peace."

"Sorry, bro, but that's not how things work. Now if you may give me permission, I'll take care of this party. All you have to do is show up, look hot and make something of yourself."

"I hate you."

He smiled at me and turned back to his laptop. "Prepare yourself, brother dear. Tonight is going to be one hell of a night."


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

* * *

><p><em><strong>The End of My Life; Fresh Start<strong>_

* * *

><p>At nine they came in packs, like scavengers waiting to feast upon the lion's kill. Though, their smiles were less menacing and more charming. Some brought gifts, which were bottles and boxes of alcohol with ribbons attached. Mitchell made me greet everyone while he did something in a different part of the house. My grandfather sat on the living room couch, making everyone around feel awkward. And sure, I wasn't really up for a party, but I wished my parents had taken my grandfather with them. Now Mitchell and I were left to make sure he didn't do something insane.<p>

The door bell rang and I opened it. Jeff rushed in with a quick kiss on my cheek before he disappeared into the kitchen. I stared after him in amusement. Just as I turned around to shut the door, Blaine was stepping forward.

"Mitchell invited me," he stated then.

"I know," I replied.

He nodded and looked over my shoulder and I took that as a hint to allow him in. I moved to the side and opened the door wider, watching the ground as he stepped in and walked away. Before I could close the door a group of people came in, all loud and rambunctious. By ten o'clock, the house was full of kids from Dalton and the sister school, Crawford. I didn't know most of the ones that came from Dalton, and the ones I did were pretending that we were all the greatest of friends.

I dubbed this party as Mitchell's and not mine, allowing myself to climb the stairs and enter my room. I grabbed my laptop off my desk and stuck headphones in it as I sat on my bed. I turned some music on and played a computer game, which to me felt a thousand times better than being downstairs while people drank and talked about things that didn't really matter. But I knew it wouldn't be long before someone came looking for me.

Mitchell appeared at my door, a cliché red plastic cup in his hand and a random girl giggling behind him. He was fifteen, drinking and probably messing around with a girl. I felt that I should do something, that I should step up and take control of things. But I didn't want to.

I saw his mouth open and I pulled out my headphones. Gratefully I only caught half of what he said.

"…and Johnny totally barfed! Nick, you've got to get down here and have some fun!"

I smiled and shook my head. "I'm good."

"There's a party for you going on and you're missing it! You're lame as hell, you know that?"

I nodded and stuck my headphones back in my ear and looked back at the laptop screen. Ten seconds later I looked up and he was gone, but he'd left my door open and people were roaming the halls. I groaned and set my computer to the side and scooted off my bed. I reached the door and looked out. My locker neighbor was coming down the hallway, cup in hand. He waved and walked over to me.

"Hey, isn't this your party? What are you doing?" he asked.

"Sebastian, isn't it?" I asked back. He nodded and smile. "I'm just not into parties."

"I don't think you're trying hard enough."

I relaxed my shoulders. "I don't want to try hard enough. I don't like parties."

His smile grew wider. "That's probably because you've never been in the middle of a party. I bet you're only used to your parent's parties where they act like fools and get drunk?"

"It's spooky how dead on you are," I told him.

"Look, I'm going to go to the bathroom. When I get back, I'm going to show you how to have a good time." He didn't wait for me to reply. He walked away and entered the hall bathroom. I wanted to just shut my door and get back to my bed, but instead I decided to rise to the occasion. Perhaps Mitchell and Jeff were right. Maybe I really did need to move the fuck on.

I went back into my room and quickly tossed off my jacket. I slipped off my slippers and reached for some chucks in the back of my closet. Just as Sebastian showed up I pulled on a fresh t-shirt.

"I thought you said you didn't like parties," he mocked.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Just show me how to have a good time."

Sebastian led me downstairs and straight into the kitchen. He handed me a red cup from Jeff (who'd taken to playing bartender).

"So he's alive!" Jeff yelled over the roar of music.

Sebastian smiled widely, as if he'd accomplished something amazing. I glared at the two and pulled at Sebastian's elbow and led him towards the living room.

"Now what?" I asked.

"There are many faces here that are looking to have a good time. Indulge into yours and things will come together."

My nose scrunched up. "I have no idea what you just said."

"Just go have some fun!"

He left my side and fell into the crowd. I followed him, mostly on instinct, but eventually I became lost in a sea of drunken teenagers who were possibly the most two-faced people on the planet.

"Nick, you're such a waste of space."

"This is your party? Awesome!"

"Who invited the AIDSmeister?"

"Wanna make out?"

"Nick Duval? You've gotta be kidding me? Gross!"

I tried to ignore them, but it was hard. There were smiles thrown at my face and elbow jabbing behind my back. There were thanks being giving and verbal abuse. The beer in my hand was disgusting, but I drank it if only to give me a few seconds of nothingness. The music was loud and I could feel the vibration throughout my body. Somebody told me a joke and I laughed. Someone called me disgusting and I called them a douchebag. Someone pushed me into a hot senior and my cheeks flamed as I tried to stand up straight. It was a cycle. Over and over again I went through mixed emotions.

At first I didn't know I was having a panic attack. I thought it was a side effect of drinking. My heart beat quickened and the lack of oxygen caused me to gasp for air. My legs shook and I had to sit in the middle of the living room, bodies pressing in on me. Someone stepped on my hand and my beer spilt all over the floor. I glanced around for Sebastian, but knees were the only thing in view. There was a part in the crowd and I spotted my grandfather on the couch. He had a glass of something in his hand and I spotted Jeff, who was listening intently as my grandfather talked to him. He was talking! But the shock only made everything worse.

Suddenly there were hands on my sides and I was being lifted up. I felt myself being repositioned in a set of arms and I looked up to see Blaine. He was frowning deeply, a crease in his forehead as he pushed past everyone.

"Breathe," he said to me. I closed my eyes and did so, feeling his body move beneath me as he went up the stairs. "Move!" he shouted at someone.

I felt the familiar comfort of my bed and allowed myself to try to relax, up until Blaine's warm, soft hands cupped my cheeks.

"Breathe, baby, come on."

Blaine would be used to this. I was prone to having panic attacks, but it was mostly brought upon when I was around too many people. He used to joke and call it clustra_people_phobia. Little did he know that it came with an actual term.

"With me now," he continued. I felt him grab my right hand and he pressed it against his chest. "In," he inhaled, "out," he exhaled. I did the same as he did, feeling myself calm down. Blaine had always had the ability to help me settle down. I opened my eyes when I was sure I could move without it being dramatic.

Blaine's eyes were the first thing I saw. They were hazel and large and full of so much love and concern that I felt sick. My heart suddenly panged with pain and I felt my eyes start to sting with tears.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, my bottom lip quivering.

He laughed softly. "You have panic attacks all the time, Nick, it's no big deal."

I shook my head. "Not that. For…for breaking up with you."

His demeanor changed suddenly to the same sadness I'd seen that day in the car—and every day since.

"Me too," he sighed.

"How can you not hate me?" A tear slid down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away.

"Because I hate myself too much. I can't stop thinking about what I did and it just kills me."

I wanted to tell him not to hate himself, not to feel guilty, but I knew I couldn't. I wanted him to feel those things, which allowed a sob to break free. His arms came around me suddenly and he pulled me into his chest. I shook as I cried out, letting myself hug him back tightly.

"Everyone hates me," I somehow managed to say.

"You shouldn't be listening to them; they don't know anything."

"It doesn't matter! No matter what I do or what gets denied they still think I'm some horrible person."

"You could tell them the truth," he said then, almost too quietly.

I shook my head. "I won't do that to you."

"Then maybe I'll do it."

I pulled away from him and frowned. "You don't ever have to do it. We'll just forget about it."

"But not be together, right?"

I shook my head. "I want…" I didn't know what I want.

"You've made it pretty clear here, Nick." I looked away when I heard his angered tone. "You don't want anyone to know. You want to be in misery about this. And you still love me, but you don't want to try to get past this. We all make mistakes. But you want me to let them go so you can be the martyr in this situation." He moved off my bed and I looked up briefly as he went to my bedroom door. "I love you more than anything. But I'm going to let you live like this. If you don't tell someone, then I will."  
>He shut my door and another set of sobs escaped. I curled into my blankets and pillows as I rocketed the cries out, waiting for sleep to find me. It did, too, sooner rather than later much to my relief.<p>

I woke up nine hours to the feel of movement. I looked over my shoulder to the left and spotted Jeff fast asleep beside me, snoring softly. I did a mixture between frowning and smiling. I made my way off my bed slowly as to not disturb him and exited my bedroom. I heard the sound of chatter in the kitchen and made my way down the stairs to the voices.

Mitchell and my mother were there, both of them throwing away many red cups and empty bottles.

"Have fun last night?" my mom asked sarcastically.

"I didn't want a party," I defended.

My mom laughs. "So your brother says."

I glanced over at Mitchell. His dirty blonde hair was messy and he had dark circles beneath his eyes. He blinked numbly at the things before him. He had a hangover. I wanted to do a little dance of revenge, but I didn't. Instead I walked over to him and began to help him pick up.

"I guess it's a good thing I invited Blaine," he stated a few minutes after our mother to moved to the living room.

"You heard about the panic attack?" I questioned.

"Panic attack?" he echoed.

"Yeah, isn't that what you're talking about?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Then what are you talking about."

"Some people were talking shit about you and he totally snapped at them."

I felt my eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah, it was amazing, Nick. I wish I had the guts he does."

"I know," I muttered.

I felt myself start to shake, but not from a panic attack—from heartache. I bit my lip and stepped out into the hallway and made my way to the living room. My mom was sighing at the large mess and I pulled at the hem of my shirt.

"Where's Grandpa?" I asked her.

She looked up and smiled kindly. "In the basement, of course."

I turned on the spot and headed for the door that led downstairs. I shut it behind me and called out for my grandfather. I spotted him near his bookshelf where he was organizing.

"Grandpa," I said. He was probably wondering why I was in his space. "Last night, you talked to Jeff. Why?"

He didn't reply. Instead he put his glasses on and carried a book to his couch. I sighed and slowly made my way to him, taking a seat beside him.

"I don't know why you won't talk to us." I waited for him to prove me, us, wrong. But he didn't. "I miss you, Grandpa."

He flipped a page in his book and I sighed.****  
><strong>**

"Blaine killed someone." I saw him blink slightly in the corner of my eye as I stared at the blank TV screen in front of us. "He was drunk, I was drunk. It was his birthday. His dad got him a brand new car and it was beautiful and red and Blaine wanted to see how fast he could go. But he wanted me to go with him. I knew he shouldn't have been driving but he told me how good a fast car could make you feel so I let him. I didn't fight him. I loved him too much to get him into trouble. We drove on what we thought were empty roads. It was dark and there was someone crossing the streets. Blaine ran him over. I told him to stop but he kept driving and he made me promise that I wouldn't tell. The next day on the news they said that the man had died."

"I still love him, but I hate what he did and I want to forgive him but I can't. And I'm sad, Grandpa. So sad. All the time. It'll be the middle of night and I'll lay in bed and I'll just think about how Blaine looked that night and that person's body just there on the side of the road. And I hate myself for not doing something more. But that's not all: I don't have any friends and how I'm such a dick all the time. I hate myself. I hate everyone." I looked over at him and watched as he remained still. "I hate you most of all."

With that I pushed myself off the couch and made my way back upstairs. I passed Jeff in the hallway and went back up to my room, not answering his question about how I was feeling. In my room I shut the door and locked it, which went against my parents' rules. I walked over to my calendar and circled December 1st. I glanced at the weather outside and tugged on some rain boots. I slipped my jacket on and went back out of my room and continued on until I was out of the house.

I wasn't positive as to where I was going; I just knew that I needed to get out and away. I bit my lip hard as I wondered what my grandfather would do with the information I told him. I wondered if I had hurt his feelings. Part of me felt scared and guilty, but another part felt free. I'd finally told someone something that had been killing me for months. In fact, I never thought that I'd tell anyone. I wasn't sure as to why I was so scared to let people know. Partially I think it's because of Blaine and the fact that I wouldn't want him to get in trouble.

Forgiving a killer just seemed unmoral to me. But it contradicted with everything else. I was there when it happened. I had let Blaine get away with it. It just seemed to make sense to pretend as if nothing happened, but even I knew that was impossible. I thought about it every second of every day.

And then there was the date that I had circled on my calendar. It wasn't for an anniversary or some important date. It was for my death—my suicide. I had planned this a while back, even before Blaine had done what he'd done. I've had my suicide planned for years. Over the years it accommodated more and more reasons that destroyed my life, that made me more depressed. At first it had been easy to get over things, but as time went on it go harder. And right now, it was too hard.

I knew suicide was selfish and pointless and a horrible thing to do, but I was tired of pretending. I was tired of pretending to try and pretending to care and pretending to be. I was done living my life the way I was. There was no point for me to be here anymore, and I'd be happier elsewhere.

One major factor for me taking my life was the fact that no one even tuned in on my depression. I felt like even if I painted it onto my forehead no one would notice. They obviously didn't care to try to fix things before they got worse, so why should I care to make sure that I'm around to see them in their happiness? I had made my decision and the time was coming.

I found myself in a small movie theatre that only played movies from the 20th century. It was nice and held a lot of nostalgia for me. Blaine and I would venture here every now and again, but instead of watching the screen we'd usually make out until our lips were too numb to continue or until things got too hot for us. Though, we should have chosen a more private place. This theatre was always full of voyagers and faceless creeps who masturbated in the back rows.

The screen now was blank, credits rolling from some film that had been playing before I arrived. The rows of seats were empty and only I occupied the screening room. It was nice, peaceful; it made me happy. I closed my eyes and leaned back into the red chair, sighing in content. Just as I was about to doze off, my pocket vibrated. I pulled out my cell phone and stared at the picture of my little brother giving me the finger on the small, lit up screen. I hit the end button and stuck the phone back into my pocket and went back to the rest that I would give myself. But I couldn't sleep. I could only shut my eyes and scream at the thoughts in my head to shut up. I frowned when a head ache began to form and left theatre five minutes before the next movie began to play.

I didn't want to go home, but there was nowhere else to go. I had no choice but to go back to my family.

The entire time I stressed. What if my grandfather had told them what Blaine did? What if Blaine was being taken by the police? What if everything was to fall apart more than it already has? Had I made a big mistake? Had I ruined everything?

Upon this, I had no choice but to run the rest of the way home. I instantly regretted not taking my car. I splashed into puddles and caused myself to become soaked with dirty water, but that didn't matter. Breathlessly I ran, not stopping until I reached the door knob of the front door. I pushed it open and shut it closed as I made my way down the hall, tugging off my boots as I did so (I may have been panicked, but that wasn't going to stop me from making it so my mother wouldn't bitch at me).

"Hello?" I called out.

"In the kitchen!" my mother's voice answered.

I walked to her and stepped into the large space to find four out five people there. Jeff was sitting on the counter top, smiling widely and laughing. Mitchell was peeling potatoes with my mother, both of whom were laughing. My dad was washing dishes. Everyone was so happy. Everyone was oblivious to my state of being. My grandfather hadn't said anything.

"Why are you so wet?" Jeff asked, laughing at me.

"It's raining outside," I stated. I walked over to him and opened up a cupboard to get out a glass. I filled it with tap water and chugged it, not stopping until the water was gone and I was in dire need of air.

"Where'd you go?" my brother questioned. "I tried to call you but you didn't answer."

"I went out for a walk," I declared, getting another glass of water.

My mother nodded. "Yes, we're aware. But why? And why didn't you let us know. You're seventeen now, dear. Not eighteen."

I simply shrugged and finished off my drink. I was going to set the glass into the sink but instead I held it out awkwardly to my father who took it and placed it in the dishwasher.

"Well, we got the house clean, with no help from you," she said then.

"Sorry," I replied.

"That's okay," Jeff chirped. "You weren't here so I just cleaned up as if I were you."

I felt my eyebrows come together. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"Mitchell and your parents said I could hang out for a while."

"How nice of them," I muttered. "Well, I'm going to go take a shower."

I left the kitchen and felt myself get stuck in the middle of the stairs as I heard the laughter carry on. Eventually I forced myself up the rest of the way and made my way towards my room. I shut the door and stood aimlessly behind it. I took a deep breath, nodded to myself and ventured off to the bathroom.

-:-

Monday wasn't as horrific as I thought it would be. People praised me for an amazing party. No one harassed me like they had been, and I wondered what Blaine could have said to make them stop. It wasn't that I wasn't grateful, which I was, it was just bizarre that they'd cave because of something Blaine would say. At my locker Sebastian greeted me, a sly smile on his face.

"How was the party?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him and he laughed. "Fine, I guess. Thanks for ditching me."

"No problem!" With that he walked away, leaving me to stare off after him in curiosity. There wasn't much I knew about him, but I decided then that I liked him. And I wasn't quite positive as to why.

In English, I found myself staring at my journal, unsure of what to write, which was silly because there were a million things going on in my head. I looked around me, and once again others seemed to be able to write what they needed or wanted. I nibbled on my pen as I stared at the lined paper before me. Eventually I sighed and caved before I made words form.

* * *

><p><em>Journal Entry #39 - October 30th, Monday<em>

I've allowed myself to tell someone my deepest secrets. Though, I'm worried. Keeping them to myself kept everyone safe. Now they're out there. Anyone can figure out what's wrong and what happened and sooner or later they'll figure out more things. I've given people a chance to do something. I don't want to do that anymore. It wouldn't be fair to me. Granted I haven't been too open for people to try to care, but that's only human. We all have walls and we put our guards up and do our best to try to trust people, but in the end we all know that trusting someone these days doesn't mean squat.

Sometimes I just want to scream to the world that there's something wrong with me. I want to scream for help. I know that I can back out of this. It'd be easy. It'd be so fucking easy to fix all of this but I have the right to be selfish. This is my life and I'll do what I want with it, even if it means not having one at all. It's not going to be easy, but it's not hard enough for me to back down. I've committed to this since I was fourteen.

I would love to do it today, but I promised my aunt that I'd spend Thanksgiving holiday with her. An entire week with my aunt (plus family). I'm not looking forward to it, but it will be nice to be around someone who I'm always around. My family drives me bonkers. So this will be good. A break from them before I get to the dirty work.

I've had years to plan this, but I still have yet to come up with a way it will be done. There are many ways to go, but I want something neat. My grandfather has a massive load of pills, and I'm sure that he'd suffice if I took a bottle or two. It's not like he'll keel over because of it, plus he gets pills constantly. If my family didn't know better, we'd say that he was a drug-lord.

Then there's Blaine. He fucked up. I fucked up. I can't say anything. Not again. Blaine is a good person, he is, and even though I'm no longer anything with him, I can't let something bad happen to him. But the guilt...how much longer until it consumes me? Fortunately, I have my ticket out.

* * *

><p>The bell rang and I jumped in my seat. I hadn't been expecting it to, but then again I did get a late start on my journal. I slammed it shut and grabbed my bag from below me and pulled it onto my shoulder and made my way to math.<p>

I knew things had gotten worse with me the second I sat down. I stared at the white board, which announced that we'd be having a test. I didn't recall this, nor did I prepare for it. This was a strange thing. I was always prepared for tests. School came easy to me. A few minutes passed and the teacher handed out our sheets of paper.  
>I stared at a blur of black letters and numbers and blinked. The only thing I had done on the test was putting down my name, the date and what period I was in. I figured out a few of the answers, but some were just immensely puzzling to me. Then it hit me suddenly, so suddenly that I laughed out loud, causing every single eye to look at me like I was insane. I tried to keep my smile small as I stared down at my paper, and after a few minutes I flipped the sheet over.<p>

_If I only have a few weeks left, what does school matter?_

The rest of the day was very much dreamlike. Multiple times I got scolded for not paying attention. In Theatre, Mr. William barked at me for ad-libbing instead of reading the script. In choir practice, Wes ordered me to dance in beat.

"I am," I replied to him then, all snark and no care in the world. "I'm dancing to my own beat."

Students stared at me in shock as I continued to outburst during classes. Teachers felt compelled to punish me somehow, but they were hesitant. I was usually the best student, now I'd fallen down to the slackers and class-clown levels. They were shocked and unsure. They probably assumed I was having a bad day, so they allowed me to do my own thing. Students continued to talk about my party, and when they came up to me to tell me about how I did an awesome job, I simply replied with a "fuck you" and walked away.

I felt on top of the world.


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

* * *

><p><strong>The End<strong>

* * *

><p>Home was absolutely liberating. It's not often that I backtalk to my parents, especially my mother, but boy, was it something. In fact, I hadn't even been home for five minutes when I began. Just as I pulled up to the curb outside the house, my mother looked over from her spot on the latter. She was holding what looked to be fake spider-webbing.<p>

"Nicky, hon," she said once I shut the driver side door. "Would you finish this up for me?" She started to take a few steps down the latter and I continued on towards her.

"No," I told her as she stretched her arm out to hand me the white. She looked at me strangely for a moment before she pressed the material to me some more.

"I'm not doing it."

"I beg to differ. I have to continue decorating inside."

"Why? It's not like anyone's going to see the inside."

She gasped like I had something horrible. "It's Halloween! You know how much I love to decorate."

"It's pointless, Mom, and I'm not going to waste my time for pointless things." Truer words never, or in this case—finally, said.

I gripped my bag tighter on my shoulder and entered the house, the smell of cookies touching my nostrils. I went straight to them. They were sitting on the counter, spread out on a sheet. My dad was applying icing on them and I snorted. He looked up at me questioningly.

"Don't you think things are a bit reversed here?" I started. "Shouldn't you be outside on the dangerous latter and Mom in here baking?"

"Don't be sexist, Nick. If you wanted to help, all you had to do was ask." He started to hand me the bowl of icing and I realized then that I was a much bigger pushover than I thought I was.

I backed away from the counter, scooped up three cookies without icing and departed from the kitchen, throwing a "no thanks" behind my shoulder as I skipped up the stairs. I went into my room and kicked the door shut, sticking a cookie in my mouth as I tossed off my bag and jacket, toeing off my shoes. I went over to my stereo and turned it on, blasting the random CD in it. I inhaled the cookies, making myself rather thirsty. Though, I couldn't be bothered to go downstairs so instead I just drank some water from the tap in my bathroom.

I sat on my bed, crossed my legs and pulled my laptop onto my lap. For the first time in months, I signed into all my social networking sites. I smiled sadly at my relationship status, which remained:_ In a relationship with Blaine Anderson._ I quickly set it back to single, which made me even sadder.

I had a few friend requests, and I accepted them immediately even though I knew I wasn't really friends with them. One of them was Sebastian, who IM'd me as soon as he could.

_Sebastian Smythe:_ Hey!  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> Hi!  
><em>Sebastian Smythe:<em> Come here often? ;)  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> Nope. It's pretty rare that I am. You better make the best of it.  
><em>Sebastian Smythe:<em> I read that in a flirty tone.  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> That's the point, stupid.  
><em>Sebastian Smythe:<em> Ouch. Now you're calling me names. I don't think I like you anymore.  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> Boo.  
><em>Sebastian Smythe:<em> I guess I could forgive you…for a price.  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> Your wish is my command.  
><em>Sebastian Smythe:<em> You, me, dinner and a movie.

I stalled momentarily. I hadn't expected that. I hardly knew the guy; I didn't even know he was gay. I had an inkling, but that was about it. He ditched me at my own party, leaving me eventually to succumb to a panic attack. Plus, he wasn't the first guy to ask me out lately. Though, I wasn't quite sure what the others wanted. What did Sebastian want from me? Who was Sebastian, anyway? I knew he was one of the loner types. In fact, I never saw him with anyone else during school. He was cute, though, with his thick hair and green eyes.

But dating wasn't part of my plan. Having friends wasn't part of my plan.

A sudden realization hit me then, causing me to release a hybrid laugh; part sob, part hysterics.

_Sebastian Smythe:_ Hesitation I see. It's okay if you don't want to.  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> I'd love to.

I typed it without thinking, but I couldn't help myself. There was sudden warmth in me and I was so happy. Not because I was asked out, but because I _could_ be happy. I didn't have to kill myself because I was miserable. I knew it was stupid of me, and I hated the aspect of trying…but what if I could live without the whole pretense thing? What if I could legitimately be happy just because? What if there was another way out of this?

It was stupid how I was making the realization now when it could have happened ages ago, but still, it was like a slap to the face.

_Sebastian Smythe:_ Friday? 7?  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> Sounds great!  
><em>Sebastian Smythe:<em> I'm still in shock. I didn't think you'd say yes.  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> Really?  
><em>Sebastian Smythe:<em> Apparently anyone who's anyone has been asking you out and you've been turning them down like they were low-life forms.  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> I just haven't been ready to allow myself to be in a relationship or date or anything.  
><em>Sebastian Smythe:<em> Because of the Blaine thing?  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> Yeah.  
><em>Sebastian Smythe:<em> Sorry to hear about you two.  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> Um, thanks.  
><em>Sebastian Smythe:<em> I get it. Touchy.  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> Thanks.  
><em>Sebastian Smythe:<em> Thank you for saying yes.  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> No problem?  
><em>Sebastian Smythe<em>: I gotta go do homework. I'll see you tomorrow.  
><em>Nicholas Duval:<em> Later.

There was a pounding at my door and I jumped.

"Turn down the music!" Mitchell shouted, stomping over to my stereo and slapping the power off button. "Jesus Christ, Nick."

"Blah, blah, blah," I countered.

"And what the hell did you do to Mom? I know she's a bitch but…woof."

I shrugged. "I'm done taking her bullshit."

"Thanks. Now she'll be coming after me with her basket of wishes."

"Did you just come up with a new saying?"

He thought about it for a minute before smiling proudly. "I did."

"Don't be so proud. It wasn't that clever."

He rolled his eyes and smacked the back of my head as he passed by. Before he walked away from my room, he glanced back into my room and sighed.

"I love you, Nick." He sounded sad.

"I love you, too…freak."

He smiled softly and disappeared. I could only think about how weird he was.

A few hours later I made my way downstairs for dinner, which ended up being pizza. My mother was killing herself over decorations and apparently my father had gone out with his bowling-buds, leaving me, Mitchell and my grandfather to sit by ourselves as we listened to our mother curse over things while we ate slowly.

I did my best not to make eye contact with my grandfather, mostly because I wasn't sure if he'd reacted about what I had said to him the day before. I was still nervous that he'd say something, but so far it seemed as if wasn't going to. My brother finished his pizza and went upstairs to his room. I looked up my grandfather and watched as he slowly at his slice.

"I'm sorry, Grandpa," I said then. "I didn't mean a single thing that I said. I was just tired. And I just wanted a reason to talk…to be…and I probably shouldn't have told you anything."

I finished up my pizza and made my way upstairs. Just as I entered my cellphone buzzed on my desk and I picked it up.

"Hey, Jeff," I greeted.

"So, you and Sebastian, huh?" he asked suddenly.

I froze and blinked. "How did you hear about that?"

"News travels fast, I guess."

"You're not mad are you?"

"I am. I ask you out and you turn me down. And then someone else asks you out and you say yes. Just, am I ugly or something?"

"No! Not at all. It's just, I'm in a really weird place right now and…" I didn't know what to say to him. I didn't even really know why I said yes to Sebastian when there were others out there that were interested.

"I forgive you," he said.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I get it. Things happen. I'm not going to die just because you said no."

I let out a breath of relief. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"The party. You were talking to my grandpa. What about?"

"He was talking to me about alcohol. He used to bartend back in the 40's. He was talking about how he met his wife, er, your grandma, in Las Vegas. It was really interesting. He was giving me tips and just being totally awesome."

"I didn't know that's how he met my grandma," I muttered.

"He misses her."

I nodded even though he couldn't see. "I know."

"Well, I just wanted to clarify that you and Sebastian were going out. I'll let you go."

"Um, okay. Sorry, again."

"It's okay. Promise."

-:-

The full week was mostly me being totally bipolar about everything. At some points I was so depressed and on the track of keeping my plan going that I'd ignore everything. Sometimes I'd be hit with a sudden bliss that things would get better and I would turn into a new person I'd never seen before. It was all back and forth, and as I sat with Sebastian during lunch on Wednesday, I found myself stuck between the two different versions of me.

"You okay?" Sebastian asked as he sat beside me with his tray of food.

"I'm fine," I replied as I picked at the food on my own.

"You're really spacey today. It's okay to talk about things."

I shrug. "I'm fine. Honest."

We ate in silence for a minute or two before his friends joined, all of them familiar faces. Thad sat in front of me, glancing at the space between Sebastian and I (read: no space).

"Hey, Nick," Thad greeted hesitantly. "How're things?"

"Okay," I replied, unwrapping my cheeseburger. "What about you?"

"Good, good. My parents got back together."

"Really? That's so great to hear."

I recalled last year when Thad, Blaine and I had gone over to his house to go swimming. It was summer, and the three of us were usually always together. Thad did become a third wheel often, but Blaine and I tried our best to keep the PDA down as we equally spent time with Thad. Our days consisted of aimless adventures throughout the neighborhoods, lots of concerts and plenty of fast-food eating.

On a Tuesday afternoon, as Blaine and Thad tried their hardest to fight each other in the water by dunking their heads beneath it, I watched through the large glass doors as Thad's mother and father argued. I couldn't hear anything do to the stereo blasting Top 40 hits that were popular at the time. But it was obvious they were fighting. Thad's mother, a thin, beautiful woman who was the town's best lawyer, threw her arms in the air, her mouth opening widely as she shouted out words. Thad's father was a doctor. I envied how important his parents were. His father matched his mother, an argument going on and seeming to get more heated by the second.

Suddenly there was cool water on my face, causing me to gasp and nearly fall out of my floating chair.

"Welcome back to Earth," Blaine joked, splashing me again.

I splashed him back. "You're such a jerk."

"Hey," Thad suddenly started, a sly smile touching his lips, "If you didn't want to get wet, you wouldn't have gotten in the pool."

"What are you staring at, anyways?" Blaine asked, swimming over to me to rest his arms on my chair, causing me to slowly tip over. I held myself up by holding onto the edge of the pool, turning my attention to the fighting adults inside.

"They've been fighting a lot," Thad sighed. "My brother says I shouldn't worry."

Both Blaine and I raised an eyebrow at him. Blaine was the first to speak. "Owen's finally talking to you again?"

Thad and his older brother, who was now a junior in college, had a falling out. Not necessarily Owen and Thad, but Owen and his entire family. Owen decided to become a Muslim, and his parents didn't want to accept him, nor his grandparents or aunts and uncles, do to their Christianity.

"Yeah," Thad replied as he swam over to the ledge. He climbed out and padded across the yard and entered the house. Both Blaine and I watched from the sidelines as the three talked, eyes being thrown in every direction, a sudden dispute starting to build.

That day Thad's parents filed for divorce. We stopped hanging out with Thad for the rest of the summer.

Back in the cafeteria, Thad nodded his head. "I never thought that it would be possible, since they were unhappy. But I guess they've secretly been seeing each other the past few months, to see if they could fix things. And, well, they did."

"And how's Owen?" I questioned, honestly curious. "I heard the whole Muslim thing didn't work out."

"You heard correctly. He's in New York now, going to some fancy art school or something. He calls every now and again."

"Any girlfriends? Or is that all too personal?"

Thad smiled widely. "Not personal at all. And yeah, he does. Her name's Jenna. She's Australian."

"That's so cool! Tell Owen I'm super jealous."

He laughed and I joined in. "I will."

Blaine walked up to our table, glancing at Sebastian and I.

"Hey, dude," Thad greeted. "Have a seat."

"Um, all right."

I kept my eyes on my plate, not daring to look at Blaine. Does he know that Sebastian and I are going to be going out? Probably. If Mitchell knew, then I wouldn't be surprised if the entire school did at this point.

"Are you guys going to Ian's Halloween party tonight?" I heard Blaine ask.

I saw Sebastian shrug in the corner of my eye. "What do you think?"

It took me a moment to realize that he's talking to me. When I looked up, all set of eyes were on me, waiting for me to answer.****  
><strong>**

"I don't know…"

"Do you have anything better to do?" he asked, smiling widely.

I smiled back, mostly because it's hard not to. "I guess not."

"We should all go together," Sebastian suggested.

He didn't realize how awkward it is between us three. Though, who are we to be rude to him? I hardly knew Sebastian enough to be impolite, and I like him, so I wasn't going to be a dick to him. And Blaine and Thad weren't the type to be total dicks either. The three of us were a big bunch of push-overs.

"Sure…" we all said together.

"Themed costumes?" Thad asked, a small grin growing larger and larger on his face.

Suddenly, the three of us busted out laughing.

"Remember when?" Blaine asked me.

I nodded my head, laughing into my hand. "And then when Thad's pants?"

"That was hilarious!" Thad butted in.

"I am totally lost," Sebastian announced.

Thad looked over at him. "Last year we dressed up as the three Musketeers. And we were going trick-or-treating and Nick fell over and I bent down to help him up and my pants totally split."

"And someone decided not to wear underwear," Blaine added

"Let's just say that there most definitely a full moon that night."

Sebastian made a humming noise. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you guys are best friends."

"Were," Blaine added. "At least Thad and I still are…"

"Really?" I suddenly asked. "You're seriously going to just…" I stopped talking and picked up my tray, my food hardly touched as I threw it away and continued walking until I reached my next class. The door was shut and I could hear the teacher talk to the class that was there before me, so I took a seat just outside the door. The ground was hard and cold, but I wasn't bothered to move. Eventually I saw Sebastian coming down the hall, his hands running against the lockers, walls and closed doors as he made his way to me.

"You're a bit of a drama-queen, you know that?"

I nodded my head. "I try not to be. But I just am."

"It's a really unattractive quality."

"You're blunt."

"My therapist says that, too."

I glanced at him, my eyebrows creased. He looked dead serious but his expression broke and he burst out in hysterics. I joined in.

The bell rang and Sebastian stood up, sticking his hands out towards me. I gripped them and he helped me up.

"Ciao."

I nodded and he winked at me, walking away towards wherever it was he needed to be.

Hours later at home I found myself in the living-room, busy writing an essay for English, when I was hit in the face with a throw-pillow. I glanced up and saw Mitchell standing there, still in his uniform and his hands curled up into fists at his sides.

"What the hell is your problem?" I asked, going back to my screen.

"What is your deal?" he shouted. I looked back up at him, only to see him fuming.

"What's yours?" I retorted.

"I'm confused about you. Are you so fucking depressed that the world around you is just a big ball of nothingness, or are you just an overdramatic attention whore?"

"Neither." I'm a liar.

"You want to tell me why you're going out on a date with Sebastian Smythe?"

I felt my eyebrows rise. "How do you know about that? It just happened."

He laughed. "Sebastian and Blaine are best friends, Nick."

"Shut up," I snorted.

"I'm serious."

"So, why do I care?"

"Aren't you the least bit suspicious?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"Not really."

The next thing I knew he was in front of me, pulling my laptop out of my hands and setting it somewhere behind him.

"It's a setup, Nick," he declared. "Blaine's still in love with you. He and Sebastian are so close that bromance can't even term it anymore. Why would Sebastian go out with his best friend's ex?"

"Blaine knows that he and I aren't ever going to work out. Maybe he and Sebastian came to an understanding."

"The bro-code, bro. Sebastian's breaking it."

"We're not chicks. Our code's more expandable."

"Why would he go out with you? The only one who knows how fake those rumors are would be Blaine, obviously."

"Fuck you!"

"It's fucking fishy as hell."

"Since when did you decide to not trust Blaine? I thought he was your hero."

"You're my brother, Nick. If there's a reason why you don't like him anymore then I'm going to trust you. And no one at our school likes Sebastian. They say he's a man-whore. _He's_ probably the one with AIDS."

"More rumors?"

"Just don't go out with him."

"I can't promise that."

Mitchell frowned deeply. "I trust you. Trust me back."

I stood up and walked behind him, grabbing my laptop from the coffee table. I took it up the stairs and went in my room. I could hear Mitchell swearing downstairs. I shut my door and let out a sigh.

"I don't know what to do."

-:-

It was Ian's Halloween party. I kept myself locked up in my room.

-:-

I stood outside Breadstix, my jacket zipped up as I shrugged off the chilly breeze. It was November now and the weather was at a constant state of bi-polarity. One day it would be oddly warm and the next shockingly cold. Tonight was the night Sebastian and I would be going out on our first date. I trusted Mitchell, but there wasn't enough proof of what he had said that kept me from denying Sebastian. Besides, I wouldn't open myself up completely to him—he was still a stranger.

A stranger who was running late, might I add.

We'd planned the date for 7pm and he had yet to arrive. My cell said 7:40. I had spent most the time waiting inside but I found myself getting antsy and decided to wait outside for him. Just as I was about to give up on him, I saw him walking towards me, a cigarette in one hand and his cellphone in the other.

"Hey," I said as he stepped over the curb.

He smiled at me. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's cool."

"Great. Now, I have some good news and some bad news."

"Start with the bad."

"I have to cancel our date."

I felt my heart drop. "And the good?"

"That is the good news." He stared at me like I missed the obvious.

"What?"

"Well, it's good news for me."

"I don't get it."

He took a puff off his smoke and snorted. "God, you're dense. What would make you think that I'd actually go out with you?"

I blinked. "You showed up, didn't you?"

"Only to see if you'd be stupid enough to do it. Did you not hear any of the rumors?"

"They're rumors..."

He rolled his eyes. "Just because they're rumors it doesn't make them any less true. Besides, Blaine's my buddy. Why would I fuck his ex?"

"So...this was a setup?"

Sebastian thought it over for a moment. "Sort of. More of a test. Blaine wanted to see how...loyal you were." He flicked his cigarette to the ground and started to walk away. "I'd say you failed."

I watched until I could no longer see Sebastian until I did anything. I expected to freak out or cry or do something ballistic, but I didn't. Instead I pulled out my cellphone and called Jeff and asked if he would pick me up. Ten minutes later Jeff was pulling up to Breadstix. I didn't even notice how warm it was in the car; my body had seemed to grow numb.

"That was a fast date," said Jeff.

"That's because there wasn't one," I replied.

"I don't get it."

"Mitchell was right. Sebastian liking me was just a scheme. Set up by Blaine."

"Why?"

"I have no clue."

"How do you feel?"

"Not sure."

"Do you want to go home."

I nodded my head.

-:-

I avoided school for an entire week, and when I returned I spoke to no one—I looked at no one. When Jeff tried to talk to me, I ignored him. When teacher's tried to get my attention, I ignored them. When Ian from gym class pushed me to the ground, I got up and ignored him. When Blaine tried to talk to me after school, I ignored him. I ignored my family. I ignored my homework. I ignored myself. I kept at it. My parents did all they could to get me to do something but nothing worked. The only productive thing I did was giving my grandfather company in the basement. It was the closest we'd been in years.

-:-

November came and went and before I knew it, it was time. I was going to kill myself.

But I couldn't do it.

My alarm clock went off at six and I couldn't bear another day of life. I walked out of my room and went down the stairs and down the end of the hall until I reached the door to the basement. Quietly I made my way into my grandfather's bathroom and opened up the medicine cabinet, where low and behold two shelves were full of prescription pills. I grabbed one orange bottle and popped the lid, staring at the white pills that waiting anxiously for me to do something.

There was a creak at the door and I looked up, only to see my grandfather staring back at me.

"I can't do it anymore, Grandpa," I told him. "This is easier."

He blinked and turned, walking back to his bed. I gaped after him. Here I was, about to down his pills and all he could do was walk away.

It was then that I realized no one cared, not even myself. I put the lid back on, set the bottle on the shelf and left the bathroom. Behind his back, I flipped my grandfather off.

Months of planning gone just like that. I wasn't sure if I felt relieved or broken. Either way, I went back to hating myself more than usual.

-:-

Things got better, if not because people realized that I didn't give a shit anymore but because Blaine had done the impossible. He fixed everything. He turned himself into the police and was trialed as an adult and now did his time in prison. He left me out of it, but I received a letter from him.

* * *

><p>Dear Nick,<br>I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry that I made you keep my secret. I'm sorry that I became a horrible person to you. I'm sorry that I made Sebastian use you. I'm sorry for starting all the rumors. I thought that if maybe you were getting bullied enough you'd leave Dalton and I'd never see you again. I figured I could keep the truth from coming out if you were out of the picture. But after a while, the guilt started to take over and I couldn't do it anymore. I should have stopped that night to make sure that that man was okay. I should have turned myself in sooner. I'm just sorry. For everything.

Thank you for caring about me,  
><em>Blaine Anderson<em>

* * *

><p>Upon hearing about that night, the school turned around and started to treat me better. People apologized for being so mean. I forgave them. I forgave Blaine, too. Sebastian didn't speak to me, which was fine by me. My home-life got better. I was less depressed and I managed to be civil to my family.<p>

My grandfather, who had refused to talk to basically everyone, made his way into my room around midnight a week or so after Blaine's trial. He shook my shoulders lightly and I opened my eyes.

"There's a reason why life is so hard, Nicholas. We strive to make it perfect but God never intended for perfection, he strived for the perfection to be see in the imperfection. It's our job to give the flaws in the world a chance; nothing's more flawed than ourselves."

With that he turned around and left my room, leaving me to think about everything he'd just said. In the end I realized that he'd said everything that I've been needing to hear.

I forgave him, too.

At school I walked to Jeff's locker. He shut it and smiled widely at me, excited as ever. I grabbed him and pulled him towards me, his lips meeting mine with force.

"What was that for?" he asked me, breathless and blushing.

"For being everything I've needed you to be. For being there. For letting me realize how imperfect you are."

His nose scrunched up. "You're welcome?"

I kissed him again, my arms pulling at his waist ash is went around my neck.

"Get a room, you two," Thad said as he walked past. I felt myself smile against Jeff's lips and pulled away.

"You seem happy," he said then, nodding to himself.

I sighed. "Happiest I've been in a very long time."

"Well, you should try it more often."

"I think I will."


End file.
